Page 100 of Jingle Belle's Biker

“You know my name.”

“Nicholas.”

My heart’s slamming hard against my ribs, and everything is in freefall. It’s not he’s seen the pajamas. Of course, it’s not.

It’s that he’s here.

He returned, and I don’t know why.

The pajamas were the catalyst for the door slam. The real core of it’s I love him. I’m in love with him. He’s come back and turned the pain into blooming hope, happiness, and love.

If I’m wrong . . .

That’s why the door’s shut.

I want to open it.

I need a reason.

Just that one.

He’s silent. My breath grows tight, my lungs burn, and my fingers dig into my palms.

Then Saint finally speaks. “I came back because I fell in love with you, and I think my nomad days are done.” His voice vibrates through the wood as though he’s right up against it. “My life’s with you. If you’ll have me.”

I rip open the door and stare up at him. He’s so close, eyes burning.

Oh my God.

Everything melts. Every. Thing.

The man’s wearing a Santa hat.

I honestly don’t think I’ve seen anything so sexy in my life.

It shouldn’t be sexy, but it is.

Oh, boy, it is.

“Saint.”

“Belle.”

In the Santa hat, it hits me, and I breathe it out. “Saint Nicholas? Saint Nick?”

“That is not the right response to me ripping my heart out and handing it to you.” His mouth twitches.

He’s like a young, hot Santa.

I need to get a grip.

“You hurt me.” This can’t just be sweep everything away. I have to say it. “You hurt me, Nick.”

He narrows his eyes. But, I realize, not at the use of his non-road name. “You’re going to make me fucking work for this. Aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

But he’s melting my defenses, like his sheer presence is fire to the ice I’m trying to stack around me. “Are you sure you’re not a serial killer?”

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